


Happy Fucking Birthday

by SqueezeBabe



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Drunk flirting, Fuck condoms, Happy Belated Birthday Seung-gil, M/M, Mafia style AU, Past Seung-gil/JJ, Shame kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 22:01:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14986511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SqueezeBabe/pseuds/SqueezeBabe
Summary: Seung-gil is shitty that nobody seems to remember it's his birthday.





	Happy Fucking Birthday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ravenwyck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenwyck/gifts).



> Happy birthday to my bestest friend in the whole world... and Seung-gil
> 
> There is also art work to go with the fic, but you'll have to wait til the artist posts it before I can give you the link :p

The throb of the music was giving him a headache. The deep bass beat that made the walls vibrate, also made his brain shake in his skull and soured his mood further. This was supposed to be a party and he was supposed to be having _fun._

As odd as it was to think of Canada having organised crime, it definitely existed, and one Jean-Jacques Leroy was the heir to the Leroy crime family. It appeared that you didn't _have_ to come from traditional mafia roots to establish a mafia family… and for that, Seung-gil was grateful. It meant that when he moved to Canada to escape his own “traditional” mafia family, that he was welcomed into a new one. One that didn't seem to care about the past or history.

He'd met JJ while attending university, the Canadian’s gregarious nature seemed over the top, more _American_ than Canadian; he was loud and brash but there wasn't an unkind bone in that tall handsome body. But despite that, it seemed that making friends was difficult for him. Sure, everyone _tolerated_ JJ, but few actually acknowledged him as more than “that loud American-wannabe.”

So here they were, at JJ’s Bachelor party, in a club probably owned by his parents, to celebrate his upcoming nuptials to one Isabella Yang, the daughter of a Triad boss. This was a marriage of alliance, but that didn't stop the pair from _actually_ falling in love. He snorted into the bottle of tequila that he'd swiped from behind the bar. In love or not, JJ was actually _gay,_ and not the _giving_ kind. The memory of JJ on his knees looking up at him, cheeks pink with lust and shame, his mouth full of cock… it was obvious that JJ wasn't into girls in _that_ way.

He took another mouthful of the fiery alcohol. So yes, here they were at a sham party to celebrate a sham marriage… and nobody could be bothered to remember that it was in fact, _his_ birthday. A small voice in the back of his mind told him that nobody had remembered his birthday because: one, he hadn't told anybody, and two, he was apparently such an arse that nobody wanted to approach him to ask him. He pouted to himself. JJ should have at least remembered.

He heaved himself up from his secluded corner seat and made his way through the revelers, not even bothering to apologise to those he bumped into along the way. Why should he have to apologise? He was Seung-gil, the silent assassin for the Leroy group. So silent and deadly that you couldn't even hear the whisper of his blade as he reached out to end your life. He leveled his trademark cold disinterested stare at those who tried to engage him in pointless small talk until they just simply gave up and moved on.

He practically threw himself into the upholstered seat that formed part of couch where JJ was sitting. He was surrounded by fawning sycophants, all smiles and gushing about how happy they were that he was getting married and how wonderful it was that the group was going to get stronger as a result… they didn't _really_ care about JJ, the same way as they _really_ didn't care about _him._

Seung-gil took another mouthful of the strong liquor, watching how JJ was all laughs and smiles as some stripper with big boobs was busy gyrating against him. The smile was genuine, but the _interest_ was not. He cleared his throat before slurring out “Why do you even bother? You don't even _like_ boobs!”

JJ looked at him, patting the pouty stripper on the arse. “Don’t mind him beautiful, he just found the top shelf tequila and he’s a bit jealous. Why don't you go over and show him a good time?” There was no denying that his handsome face was persuasive when he was grinning at you with his perfect smile. “Or better yet, here's a hundred bucks, why don't you get me another drink yeah? You can keep the change.” He gave her another pat on the rump as she flounced away.

Seung-gil took the opportunity to scoot closer, close enough to speak into JJ’s ear without being heard over the thumping bass line. “I thought you preferred cock?”

JJ at least had the decency to blush at his question, blue eyes downcast over flushed cheeks. “I'm getting _married.”_

Seung-gil snorted. “What's that got to do with the fact you like taking it up the arse? You gonna ask Isabella to peg you? What's she gonna say when she finds out that her boyfriend, the apparent epitome of rugged Canadian masculinity, is a fucking poofter?” He reached over and grabbed JJ by the crotch, “You didn't even get _hard!”_

JJ slapped his hand away, the shame and guilt written all over his perfect face. “Stop this!” he hissed.

Seung-gil took a huge swallow of the top shelf tequila before he finally put the bottle down, more than half empty, onto the table in front of him. Standing on slightly unsteady legs, he turned to look down at JJ, seated before him, legs apart. With a smirk he leaned forward, sliding his knee in between those parted thighs, his hands resting on the back of the upholstered couch, caging the Canadian in. It didn't matter that JJ was bigger and broader, and probably could overpower him with brute force; the thought would never cross his mind to do so.

He leaned in close, his voice husky with liquor and suddenly rising desire. “She can't make you hard, but I can, remember? You looked so pretty with your face stuffed full of my cock…” he reached forward with his knee, emphasizing his point. “See?”

A hand gripped him on the shoulder and pulled him backwards, making him stumble to his feet. He turned, hand already reached for the flick knife that would be in his back pocket… except his hand never made it that far thanks to the iron hold on his wrist. Eyes as dark and expressionless as his own looked at him and an eyebrow quirked slightly as a deeper, huskier voice asked, “Problem?”

Seung-gil just huffed, shaking off the hand on his wrist. “Settle down Altin, there's no problem here other than JJ “The King" Leroy is a fucking _fraud.”_ Seung-gil couldn't keep the sarcasm from his voice. “Here he is, celebrating the fact he's getting married, but he's forgotten to tell his bride to be that he likes sucking dick…”

Guilt and shame was written all over that handsome face, cheeks getting redder by the minute as JJ was obviously waging some huge internal battle with himself. Seung-gil’s sharp eyes noticed the slightly growing bulge at the front of JJ’s tailored pants and he scoffed. “Oh dear, the _humiliation_ making you _hard?_ Whatever would Isabella say when she finds out that…”

The firm hand was back on his shoulder, roughly pulling him away before he could finish that sentence. “Fuck! Get off Altin!” Seung-gil struggled as he was dragged through the crowd, and then away from the floor of the club, upstairs to where the private rooms were located before being pushed into one of the empty ones. He rounded on Otabek before he had even made it through the door, but the fiery liquor slowed his movements, the bodyguard effortlessly catching his fist in the palm of his hand and pushing it away, his dark eyes narrowing at the drunk Korean.

“Leave it.” he growled.

“Or what?” Seung-gil spat, “Look at you, leaping to your masters defence like the _dog_ you are! Do you wag your tail while he throws you a bone?” He paused for a moment, a calculating look on his face. “You're jealous, aren't you? All this time you've been pining after him and you've never had him…” a triumphant grin spread across his face.

“But I have.”

Otabek’s face remained impassive, his dark eyes unreadable in the dim light of the room. Seung-gil could feel the rising tide of annoyance; what would it take to make the bodyguard crack?

“I've seen how pretty he looks, tears on his face, all blotchy and red, mouth stuffed full of cock; _my_ cock! And you want to know where else I stuffed my cock? In that tight little arse of his while he shamelessly begged for it. Your _master_ took my dick like a fucking _pro…_ so how about you see you can do better than him huh? Get on your hands and knees and beg for my dick and show me how pretty you can be. You want to be like him so much, then lets start with this.”

Seung-gil began unbuttoning his jeans. He could already feel himself hardening at the thought of Otabek on his knees in front of him; just the thought of that hard stoic face going all blushy was enough to get his pulse racing.

With a slight twitch of his eyebrow, Otabek only said one word.

“No.”

Seung-gil blinked a few times in confusion, his hands stopped unbuttoning. “What?”

Otabek picked him up by his shirt front and threw him into the upholstered seating that lined the back wall of the room. Seung-gil’s breath left his body in a rush as he landed awkwardly, “What the fuck?!” he wheezed as he sunk into the cushions, slightly dazed. Otabek was already in front of him, hands working quickly to undo his belt, sliding down the zipper of his perfectly pressed trousers to free the biggest cock that Seung-gil had ever seen.

It was thick, veiny, and visibly throbbed, bobbing slightly in time with his pulse.

“Where the fuck have you been hiding _that_?” Seung-gil couldn’t keep the touch of awe from his voice.

A hand firmly gripped the back of his head, fingers twining through the thick dark locks, forcing him to look up; first at the cock that had started to ooze precum, and then further, at the face so expressionless that it might as well be carved from stone, looking down at him. The stone cracked slightly as Otabek hinted at the ghost of a smirk.

“Suck it.”

Seung-gil opened his mouth to protest, only to find the blunt head of Otabek’s cock, glistening with precum in the dim light of the room, pushing past his lips and brushing against the roof of his mouth. He fought the urge to gag as he felt the corners of his mouth begin to burn with how stretched open it was. Any wider and he felt that he’d have to dislocate his jaw.

It tasted of salt and sweat, and smelled of soap and what must have been Otabek’s own personal musk, and not at all unpleasant. As the thickness his mouth, he could feel it pulse, a somewhat erratic fluttering against his tongue.

They both groaned as Seung-gils nose brushed against the neatly trimmed curls at the base of Otabek’s cock. Seung-gil felt slightly lightheaded, the impossibly large cock made it difficult to breath, even through his nose. He resisted against the pressure on the back of his head, trying not to panic when Otabek refused to allow him to pull away. Seung-gil looked up at him, glaring, hating how his face still expressionless except for the faint dusting of colour that was beginning to show on his cheeks.

The stone began to crack a little more. “Bite me and I _will_ break your fucking jaw.” A flash of white as Otabek bared his teeth a little in a barely there smirk.

Seung-gil rolled his eyes and pulled away again, this time the hand on the back of his head let him. Otabek’s thick meat fell from his lips with a wet pop, bobbing slightly under it's own weight. He felt as if he were being mocked by it. Otabek’s thumb brushed against his lower lip, rubbing it gently before hooking over his teeth, pulling his jaw open, the purplish head of his cock inching forward again.

Seung-gil repressed a shiver as dark eyes regarded him, burning with an unfamiliar intensity. This was supposed to be him showing the Kazakh who had the upper hand; that he had fucked JJ and made him beg for it… but he could feel his control of the situation slipping away in a lust-fueled haze as Otabeks musky scent filled his nostrils once more.

Both of Otabeks hands threaded through the hair at the back of his head, the stocky man shifting forward and adjusting his stance, before taking hold once more, thrusting his hips forward as he began to fuck Seung-gil’s mouth.

Sueng-gil could feel the beginnings of tears as the gathering moisture stung his eyes. He looked up at Otabek who had his head thrown back, small grunts of encouragement sounding through his slightly parted lips, hooded eyes looking down at him as he continued to thrust his cock into Seung-gil’s now more accommodating mouth. As big as he was, Otabek never seemed to push him to the point of actually choking.

To his chagrin, he realised that Otabek had let go of his head, and all the movement was just him, growing greedier by the moment; hopelessly sucking that beautiful cock as if it were his last meal on earth.

With the first true grin he had ever seen, Otabek pulled back, his cock exiting Seung-gil’s mouth with a lewd slurp. A thumb brushed against his cheek, and he realised that they were slightly damp. Had he cried after all?

“So pretty.”

Otabek’s voice was soft and deep. It sent a shiver down Seung-gil’s spine that went straight to his dick, painfully swollen in the tight confines of his jeans.

The strong hands that had held his head, were now under his arms, urging him to stand up, and as he did, they tugged impatiently at his buttons. With a grunt, Otabek just pulled, a button clattering to the floor as his jeans finally came undone. With another rough tug, Otabek pulled them down his slender hips. Seung-gil could feel the sticky dampness, the mess he’d made in his pants as his dick had oozed copious amounts of precum while his face was getting fucked.

“Turn around. On your knees.”

It wasn't a request.

Seung-gil did as he was told and kneeled on the firm couch, resting his forearms on the hard back, and gave his bare arse a small wiggle.

“Like this?”

The points of colour that he had been observing on Otabek's cheeks suddenly darkened as the Kazakh man swore. Seung-gil watched through lust-hooded eyes as Otabek withdrew a small packet from his jacket pocket and ripped it open with his teeth, and with slow deliberation poured the cool lubricant over his fingers. A moment later, he felt those same fingers smear themselves over the tight ring of his arse, before one of them pushed inside of him. He let out a small hiss, the burning sensation not entirely unpleasant.

Soon one finger was joined by another, working to loosen him up. Seung-gil couldn't help himself as he pushed back as they thrust inside him. He could feel his face warming; surely it was the effects of the tequila and not the fact that the fingers in his arse were making his cock leak even more, droplets of moisture staining the fabric beneath him.

He turned his head to look at Otabek, his tongue snaking out to wet his lips, lips that were dry from his breathless panting.

“Do it.” He wasn't going to stoop so low as to actually beg for it. He tucked his head into his folded forearms, closed his eyes and waited.

There was a rustle of fabric, the increased warmth as Otabek moved in closer. Seung-gil sighed as he felt the burning heat of Otabek's cock as it slid between his arse cheeks. Once. Twice. Then the thick head pushed against his loosened hole.

Seung-gil couldn't help the small whine of pain. The ring of muscle burned as it stretched; Otabek continued to slowly push himself inside until his hips were up against the firm cheeks of Seung-gil’s arse.

“So fucking tight…” Otabek grunted.

“Yeah? Well…” Seung-gil left the rest unsaid.

Otabek stayed like that, his cock seated, as he waited for Seung-gil to get used to his girth. Seung-gil would be happy if the man never moved again. He could feel the thickness throbbing inside him, his own answering throb as his muscles slowly got used to being stretched.

Otabek shifted slightly, not quite pulling out, and neither pushing himself further in. Seung-gil let out a strangled moan that he tried to hide as the movement inexplicably found his prostate. His muscles twitched and his arse clamped down on the swollen flesh inside him as his hips jerked backwards.

There was a chuckle behind him, hands reached for his narrow hips and pulled him further back, grinding that cock deep inside him.

“Bastard.” he spat. He was going to ignore the way his legs trembled and his own cock throbbed in answer.

Otabek began to move. Slow, languid thrusts that scraped along the sensitive nerves and made him bite his lips to prevent his small cries from escaping. He'd rather die than let the bodyguard know how good it felt. Though Otabek didn't need him to say anything; his hips moved all on their own, seeking out the feeling of fullness that he was beginning to crave.

The pace picked up, the slow gentle thrusts replaced by harder, sharper ones, punctuated by the slap of flesh against flesh. He used his forearms to shield his head from hitting the wall, each thrust driving him forward against the couch. Each thrust scraping along his prostate and making his breath come in little gasps until with a small cry his body spasmed and white splashed against the upholstery.

And still Otabek continued to fuck him. At this point Seung-gil no longer cared; arching his back and pushing back to meet each thrust. A strong arm snaked around his shoulders and pulled him back even further, Otabek crushing his lips beneath his own as he moaned into Seung-gil’s eager mouth, his own body giving a shudder.

Seung-gil felt the warmth flood his insides, his body gripping tightly as he felt Otabek’s cock jerk and pulse inside him, the man holding him tightly as his hips jerked erratically, chasing his release.

Breathing heavily, Seung-gil leaned back into Otabek's embrace. He could feel the Kazakh’s cock softening, slowly sliding out of his abused hole. He was going to be walking funny for the rest of the night.

Otabek feathered a kiss across his temple, and bent forward, his lips brushing against his ear.

“Happy fucking Birthday.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always welcome.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Of Shadows and Kings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15197123) by [ravenwyck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenwyck/pseuds/ravenwyck)




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